Most
people are drawn to the open sky. We orient ourselves to open spaces
where the sun can shine and we can consider the forests or cliffs the
boundaries of our habitable world.

In
the vast open spaces of the American plains and deserts, it is the
opposite; we gravitate toward the copse of trees. During the year I
lived and worked for the Park Service in Death Valley, California,
I spent my time off painting landscapes. At first, I would always head
for an oasis or clump of palms that signified a spring. I would paint
the contrast between the green that my woodland mind felt safe in and
the bleached landscape just beyond the fringe of leaves. Perhaps four
months passed before I could see and paint a desert devoid of trees.
For most people, open space disturbs and it is not just the instinctive
protection from predators that we seek in the shelter of trees; it is
shelter from the eye of God. Or to put it another way, wide-open spaces
force us to introspection at a scale most of us are unequipped to
manage.

Does this relate to brick ovens? Not directly. I occasionally post these from my landscape design blog: theconsciousgardener.blogspot.com because my work in both areas is related and because (let's face it), I can't always generate pertinent brick oven posts on a weekly schedule.
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